The kitchens were built along the back of the house, a separate building to reduce the risk of fire. But wooden troughs were built between the walls of the kitchen and the bathroom. A pull on the bell cord and water could be dumped into one of the troughs in the kitchen, which would spill into one of the large tubs kept in the bathing room. There were three tubs and two others used for laundry. Bridget could feel the heat ten paces before entering the doorway. A splash made her stop. There was no way to keep her eyes from falling on the very bare shoulders of the man in one of those tubs. They were wide and covered in thick muscle.
“Who has come to help me?”
Curan sounded amused, and he turned with a grin on his lips. Surprise flickered in his eyes. His attention shifted to the two knights behind her and then onto the clothing draped over her arm. His lips twitched, and something flickered in his eyes that reminded her very much of Tomas when he looked at Marie.
“So you’ve come to help me as a wife should? How delightful. My back welcomes your sweet hands.”
She didn’t have to remain.
Bathing a guest was a time-honored trait of hospitality. Bridget was surprised her mother wasn’t in the room. She worried her lower lip. Considering how unhappy Curan was with her mother’s insistence that he return to London, maybe it was no surprise that he was bathing alone. Women might be legally chattel, but annoying the lady of the house was not a wise choice unless you enjoyed being overlooked by the staff.
“Unless you are too timid, Bridget.”
Challenge coated his words along with an arrogance that sent her temper back into flames.
“That is not a word I have heard used to describe me before.”
He turned his head and eyed her. The scrutiny needled her. Walking over to one of the clothing racks in the room, she laid her things on it. Set near the fire, the rack would allow the garments to be warmed while she bathed. A pair of britches was already there, along with a creamy shirt. Her gaze lingered on the male clothing for a moment.
“Good. I’ve little tolerance for timidity.”
“Is that another warning I should heed?”
Pausing to roll up her sleeves, Bridget kept her eyes on the fabric. She refused to worry if the man’s ego was bruised by her question. He was the one tossing out barbed comments, after all. She refused to buckle in the face of a few harsh words. A desire to show that to him refused to allow her to maintain a demure silence.
“It is not.”
There was a hint of remorse in his tone. But when she raised her eyes she found him watching her. Heat teased her cheeks almost instantly. Her poise deserted her for a moment, her eyelashes fluttering and breaking their connection. She detested the way she responded to him. Forcing herself to look straight at him, she refused to appear submissive. Let the man see that she was not some marzipan bride who would be easily molded to suit his ego, so perfectly molded into the ideal of beauty but with no strength.
This defiant gaze allowed her to view him completely. He had dark hair that was shiny from the water and curling gently across his forehead. There was nothing boyish about him. Not a hint of weakness anywhere on him. His shoulders were cut with thick muscles. Beginning at his wrists, his forearms were corded. That same condition continued up his arms, where his biceps rose into thick display. His chest was wide and had a sprinkling of dark hair across its expanse. She moved her gaze over his square-cut jaw to discover his eyes glittering.
More heat surfaced in her face. She glided toward him, reaching for the soap neatly laid out next to the tub. Bathing guests was a tradition because keeping fleas out of the house was a Herculean task that fell to the women. It was easier to control the pestilence by seeing to the scrubbing of all their guests.
She had assisted her mother many times, but today she paused before beginning the task in front of her. Touching Curan, even the idea of it, still caused a quaking inside her. Sending her hand along his shoulder, she hoped that the first contact might banish the anticipation, but it did not. Instead, she had to tighten her fingers on the soap to maintain her grasp on the slippery bar. A faint hint of rosemary arose from it. He leaned forward to allow her to wash more of his back.
Marie’s lessons suddenly surfaced above the strange quivering inside her, capturing most of her attention. The courtesan had never rushed. Drawing a deep breath, Bridget slowed her own motions, taking more time to smooth the soap across his shoulder blades. She made several lazy passes, making sure to work up a good lather before setting the bar aside and taking up a cloth. Even through the fabric, she felt the heat of his body. Her fingertips suddenly became more sensitive. They wanted to discover what he felt like when there was nothing between them at all.
It was stunning how quickly her body responded to that idea. A flush of heat poured over her. No hint of night chill was left anywhere on her body. She was warm from head to toe, even longing to remove her outer dress.
“I enjoy your hands on me, Bridget.”
She fumbled the cloth, tightening her fingers to keep it in her grasp. A tiny gasp crossed her lips, and she looked at him to judge if he had heard it. There was no way to tell from the back of him. He stretched his hands out to the foot of the tub so that she might reach all the way down to his lower back.
“I believe I shall take to bathing twice a day.”
His words were arrogant, but her temper did not flare up. Instead her attention was captured by the hint of huskiness in his tone. She had heard it in Tomas’s voice, too. That bit of knowledge filled her with confidence. It was an odd feeling that combined with the quiver that touching him produced. She leaned over to work the cloth down his spine, and her senses filled with the scent of his skin.
It was dark and very male. What surprised her was the way she enjoyed it. Her nipples hardened even further. They ached behind her stays. Only this time she knew exactly what the little points craved.
The touch of his lips against them.
